The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Just like before, the 237th attempt ended up in failure. I opened my eyes to the all-too-familiar scene of the City of Peace. The laughter of children, the bustling streets, the calm that belied the darkness lurking beyond the city walls. It was supposed to be a place of serenity, a sanctuary, but to me, it had become a bitter reminder of my own limits—a reminder of how many times I had watched this place fall.

I sat on a large bench, the kind made to accommodate even the largest of demon races, feeling its solid support beneath me. The stone was cool, and the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the square. Lyan sat beside me, silent. He was the only one who knew—the only one who could remember each loop along with me. His incubus abilities allowed him to keep the maemories, transferring them from me each time we restarted.

"I see," Lyan said, breaking the silence. "So you were a mechanical engineering professor, and now you're a magic professor. Is it even the same?"

I looked at him, a tired but amused smile tugging at my lips. "Not really," I admitted, leaning back slightly. "But there are some overlaps. You'd be surprised how much physics applies to spell formation."

Lyan snorted, giving me a sidelong glance. "I took a master's degree in mathematics, by the way. Ended up being a bookkeeper."

"And ended up being an incubus," I added dryly.

"Right..."

For a moment, both of us chuckled, and it was a strange sound—not the kind of laugh you let out when you share a funny story or a joke, but one that spoke of shared frustrations, the kind of humor you find in a hopelessly ridiculous situation. We weren't laughing because we were happy—more like two men who were relating to each other over a shared burden.

It was a good feeling, in a way. A momentary reprieve from the weight of the loop, a sense of solidarity. Maybe that was enough for now.

Lyan turned towards me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Can I ask you something that's been on my mind for a while?"

"Of course. Shoot."

He raised an eyebrow. "What is magic, really? I mean, I get the general idea—you use mana, you cast spells—but it just doesn't make sense to me in the way that mechanical systems do."

I took a breath, considering how to explain it. This was one of the things I actually enjoyed about the loops—teaching someone like Lyan, who, despite his casual demeanor, had a sharp mind beneath the surface.

"Alright, imagine mana as a form of energy—like electricity," I began, flicking my wrist and letting a small magic circle appear, hovering above my hand. "But unlike electricity, mana has a kind of 'will' of its own. It's reactive, and it can be manipulated by intent."

Lyan nodded, his eyes fixed on the circle, his curiosity evident. "And the magic circle?"

"This," I pointed at the circle, "is a kind of control mechanism. Think of it as an engineering diagram, except instead of creating a machine, you're creating an effect. The runes are like components—each one has a specific purpose. When I draw them like this," I traced one of the lines, "I'm giving the mana instructions, telling it how to behave."

"So, it's like programming?" Lyan asked, leaning in a bit closer, his eyes examining the glowing lines.

I smiled, nodding. "Exactly. It's like programming, but instead of computers, we're using raw energy. The structure, the strokes, the placement of runes—all of it matters. A slight deviation, and the effect could change drastically, or fail altogether."

Lyan frowned, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "So why is it that humans and demons use magic differently? I've noticed it, you know. The circles you use look different from what I've seen demons use."

"Ah, that's a good question." I dismissed the circle with a wave of my hand, letting the glow fade into the afternoon light. "The difference lies in the nature of mana itself. For humans, magic is something external—we channel mana from the environment, and it takes a lot of effort to control it. We use magic circles to impose our will on that mana, to create something structured from chaos."

"And demons?" Lyan prompted.

I paused, gathering my thoughts. "For demons, it's different. You see, demons are born with mana integrated into their very essence. It's not something they draw in—it's already part of them. So, the magic they use is more instinctive. They don't need to use magic circles the way we do, because their bodies already know how to manipulate mana naturally. It's like… breathing for them."

Lyan's eyes widened slightly. "I see. That's why demon magic feels... different. Less refined, more primal."

I nodded. "Exactly. Human magic is all about precision, about imposing order. Demon magic is about letting mana flow naturally, letting it react with their emotions and instincts."

Lyan leaned back, a small smile playing on his lips. "That makes sense. I always wondered why demon magic seemed so chaotic compared to human spells."

"It's chaotic because it's an extension of themselves," I replied. "The more emotional a demon is, the more powerful their magic becomes. But it's also harder to control. That's why demons with strong emotions can be so dangerous—they channel that raw energy directly."

Lyan tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "You know, I've seen demons use a kind of... resonance when they cast spells. Like their mana reacts to each other's. What's that about?"

I gave him a curious glance, impressed by his observation. "That's a phenomenon unique to demons. They can synchronize their mana—kind of like how tuning forks resonate with each other. When they're emotionally connected, their mana flows together, amplifying the effect. It's something humans can't do, no matter how hard we try."

Lyan nodded slowly, a look of realization crossing his face. "I remember seeing that once. Two demons casting together, and the effect was... massive."

"Exactly," I said. "It's a powerful tool, but it requires trust, and a deep emotional bond. Without that, the resonance can backfire."

Lyan grinned, leaning forward. "You know, you're starting to sound less like a professor and more like a demonologist."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I suppose that's inevitable, considering how long we've been doing this."

Lyan's expression softened, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "You're a good teacher, Draven. I've learned a lot from you."

I smiled, though there was a heaviness in my chest.

"Thanks, Lyan. But let's hope this time, the lessons actually make a difference."

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp.

"It will. We'll make it work. We have to." He paused, then added with a smirk, "Though, I still don't get why mana works the way it does."

I let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head. "Join the club. I've been studying it ever since I arrived in this new life, and there are still things that don't make sense. Magic isn't just science—it's art, philosophy, and, sometimes, a complete mystery."

Lyan sighed dramatically. "Great. Just what I needed—more mysteries."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," I said, "you're not alone. Every mage is still learning—even me."

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Guess that makes us lifelong students, huh?"

"Looks like it," I replied, patting his shoulder. "But at least we're in it together."

We sat in silence for a few moments, watching the bustling life of the City of Peace continue around us. The sunlight was warm, and for just a moment, I allowed myself to forget about the loop, the failures, the abyss that threatened everything. It was a fleeting peace, but I cherished it.

Lyan broke the silence with a sigh. "I need to go buy some replenishments. There are potions that could help us in the upcoming fight. When the abyss monsters attack, we'll need every advantage we can get."

I nodded. "Good idea. Even if we fail again…"

"Don't jinx it, you cold bastard," Lyan muttered, a grin on his face.

I let out a chuckle, shaking my head. "Right. Positive thinking." He gave me a mock salute before standing up, and I watched as he walked away, his form gradually blending into the crowd.

"Positive thinking, huh..."

I guess that kind of mindset would be the best thing to use in this kind of situation.

____

Lyan watched as Draven's figure disappeared into the bustling crowd, and let out a long sigh. Just as he was about to stand and head in the opposite direction, a flicker of color caught his eye—a flash of red. He blinked, turning his head, and there she was.

Aurelia. The Queen of Regaria. Her fiery hair seemed to blaze even in the late afternoon light, her expression one of her usual irritation. She stood at the edge of my vision, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto mine. Lyan felt his heart skip a beat—not because of fear, but because Aurelia had a way of making anyone uneasy when she stared like that.

"W-What is it?" Lyan managed to ask, his voice coming out more strained than he intended.

She didn't answer immediately, instead walking over with a deliberate slowness that made my nerves spike. She sat down next to me on the bench, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest. Her gaze never left me, and I could see the gears turning in her mind.

"You seem to be getting along pretty well with him lately," she said, her tone somewhere between a statement and an accusation.

Lyan frowned, glancing in the direction Draven had gone. "Him? You mean Draven? It's nothing much. Just… comradeship, I guess."

"Hm," she replied, her eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned back, staring up at the sky. She let out a sigh, her expression softening—just for a moment. "Comradeship, huh?" she murmured, her eyes flicking towards me. "You sure it's not something else?"

Lyan swallowed, feeling a bit cornered. "W-What are you trying to say?"

She turned her head towards me, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made me freeze. There was no playfulness in her gaze now—only seriousness. She studied me for a moment, her brow furrowed as if she were trying to read my soul.

"How many times have you already redone this quest?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lyan's heart stopped. The blood drained from his face, and he stared at her, unable to hide his shock. How did she know? How could she possibly know? Each time I died and returned, she had never remembered—the loops had always left her oblivious to our previous failures.

"What… what are you talking about?" I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.

Aurelia's gaze hardened, her eyes never leaving mine. "Don't play dumb, you bastard. I may not know the details, but I'm not stupid. You and that cold guy—the way you act, the things you know that no one else does… It's like you've lived it all before." She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. "So tell me, Lyan. How many times?"